


Devour Me Whole

by Capzi



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, First Time, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Other, Rimming, Tongues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 08:42:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16513034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Capzi/pseuds/Capzi
Summary: Eddie and Venom come home, make some dinner, enjoy some chocolate.Things take an unexpected turn after that last part.





	Devour Me Whole

**Author's Note:**

> What can I say, I am merely a slut for domestic fluff. And monster tongues, apparently.

* * *

 

Eddie is double-fisting grocery bags, trotting up the stairs to their new place (an elevator building on a reporter’s salary? Forget the alien symbiote, _that’s_ pure fantasy), when a gallon of almond milk shifts and one bag tears clean open.

“Fuc-” He starts, but the word is only half finished by the time Venom slinks out a long black tentacle and scoops up the milk, paper towels, and four expensive chocolate bars Eddie wouldn’t have believed would be on his shopping list four months ago.

“Thanks.”

**You’re welcome, Eddie. Not that it would be any great loss to leave this…nut juice.**

“Not everything we eat’s gotta come from some animal, buddy.”

**Says you.**

Eventually the cumbersome hustle ends, courtesy of Venom fishing out the key from Eddie’s pocket, unlocking the apartment door, and Eddie dropping the bags to the floor inside. He winces, flexing his hands, from the plastic cutting into his palms. An annoyance too minor for Venom to fix.

The apartment is two weeks new to them and Eddie’s spent most of those two weeks sitting heavy on buyers’ remorse. Not for the new bike, which kicks ass, but definitely the San Fran rent bending him over from behind.

Because fuck, it’s spendy feeding them both. Eddie runs his fingertips down the granite countertop, feeling the coarse texture rise and dip, until he hits the edge and lets his hand drop, staring down the grocery bags. He tried to hold onto his poverty days mentality, only buying what he could afford for the day or afternoon, but that flew down the toilet with Venom’s understanding of the term ‘direct deposit’. He grocery shops like a housewife with two toddlers and a footballing sixteen-year-old now, giving in to junk food and stocking up on meat like endtimes are coming.

He’s starting to come around though. It’s nice, really nice, to not have roaches in the bathtub or water stains down the walls. A clean, comfortable loft with big windows and light that spills over in the morning to wake him up to an empty bed. Well, sorta.

**Fry the chicken first. Then the potatoes, then take the bread and cover it in-**

“Hold up there,” Eddie interrupts, vividly sensing the gorging Venom has in mind for the evening. “This human stomach is not interested in a night of indigestion, not when _you’re_ not even that hungry anyway.”

He pulls on the memory of the two bank robbers they ate yesterday, and feels Venom shift around reluctantly at the back of his mind.

**I suppose not.**

“That’s what I thought. Lemme do something normal for a minute, k?”

Venom doesn’t answer, but Eddie can sense him watching he puts away all the groceries himself, washes his hands, and swaps out his career hoodie and slacks for sweatpants and a tee. He takes his time prepping the food, tries to really see the spices coating the chicken (Venom flashing a brief impulse to scarf it down raw) and the wet, brown potato skins piling in the sink. Meditation on smaller scale. It’s been ages since he had a real kitchen to work with, and even longer since he wanted anything to do with one. Anne doesn’t cook either, so his world from New York out here to California has been restaurants and take-out and tator tots, for a decade at least.

It’s unusually quiet for a while. Then,

**This is nice.**

“What is?”

**Making something. Making food. Why haven’t we done it before?**

Eddie turns out some potatoes on a plate, adds the chicken and a paltry attempt at a salad before he answers.

“Not usually the kind of thing you do alone. Making a whole real meal, that’s what families do. Couples. Together.”

**We’re not alone, Eddie.**

“Yeah. I know.”

He eats in front of the TV, the news and whatever rerun sitcom comes on after. It feels _good_. Warm. Satisfying. A short moment in time where he doesn’t have to find something to consume his attention, keep his own brain at bay. It’s been a long time on that too.

Venom likes TV. When Eddie isn’t in the mood for their vigilante justice and can’t bribe him with food, he can sometimes put him off with a superhero movie or procedural cop drama. Not surprisingly, Venom likes black-and-white stories of good versus evil best, rooting for the heroes as often as the bad guys. It’s kind of cute.

Eddie flicks the channel to an NCIS marathon and gets up to jog back to the kitchen. He does this _utterly ridiculous_ thing now where he keeps those chocolate bars stashed away on top of the fridge. It makes no sense, and he knows it. He buys the bars for Venom, and eats them for Venom, the ultra powerful alien living inside him who is more than capable of ripping a cement truck in half without permission, nevermind raiding the snack bin just barely overhead.

But funnily enough, Venom plays along too. He never demands Eddie dole out the chocolate, just waits patiently until they give in to the craving. It’s like a game, or their easiest compromise, only Eddie figures they both win, for once.

Back on the couch, Eddie lifts the gold foil wrapper and thin white paper from the chocolate and breaks it into squares with his thumbs. He brings one square to his mouth and sucks slowly, letting the candy dissolve as he absentmindedly takes in the shootout on screen. The next two squares he bites, breaking apart the velvety texture into sweet, rich shards. Neither one of them is impressed with dark chocolate, so the sweetness of the bar is intense, cloying almost, and Eddie waits before eating more. He’s still vaguely watching the show, though mostly just zoning out on the comfort of the night, and so it takes a few minutes before he realizes Venom is no longer interested in the characters or plot.

Eddie swallows back the last of the chocolate taste in his mouth and Venom coils down behind his teeth into both the warmth of his full stomach and the fine nerves of his spine. The warmth covers his whole body and Eddie inhales sharply, unsure of how to place the sensation or if it’s even a good one.

Venom flows into his fingers, running them together, and Eddie looks down to find a square of chocolate still in his hand, melting from his body heat. Without thinking, he brings his finger to his mouth and sucks.

All the warmth intensifies and pinpoints, and _oh,_ he knows this one alright. His hips buck, his breath catches, and as much as he wants to figure out where this is coming from, the sensation is so damn good he wants to chase it more. Eddie nibbles the juncture where his own ring finger meets his palm, teeth scraping up the melted chocolate, and now he can feel Venom driving them forward, tasting as he tastes, hungering, needing. He licks at his fingers, swirling them around his mouth, heart-rate picking up quickly to follow his enthusiasm. His eyes are closed in pleasure, only aware of the feel of his tongue slurping around his pinky finger…around and around and _around_ , that’s too many times, and his eyes fly open to see Venom’s monster tongue slinking out of his own mouth.

“Hey! No!” Eddie claws at the tongue until it recedes back to normal, panting and shaky from shock. Venom is lurking back at the base of his skull, more confused than chastised.

**That was good, we liked it. But you stopped.**

“Well, _yeah._ Not okay, man, you gotta keep your tongue out of my mouth.”

**Hmf. You liked it. Was sharing the good feelings with you, partner of body and mind.**

Eddie works on catching his breath and registering this statement. He runs the hand he and Venom weren’t just licking through his hair, starting to feel edgy.

“What _were_ the good feelings, V? ‘Cus on my end, it felt a lot like…well…”

**Theobromine and phenethylamine stimulating our nervous system.**

“Chocolate never did that for me before.”

Venom rolls languidly back down his spine.

**Did what.**

Eddie coughs, genuinely unsure if this symbiotic bastard is fucking with him or if he seriously doesn’t know. Venom’s surprised him on both accounts in the past.

“The stimulating. That. Not just my brain, the sexy feeling.”

**Oh. Arousal.**

Up until this moment, Eddie didn’t even know it was possible for Venom to speak softer than a growl inside his head, but the word ‘arousal’ comes through like a whisper, long and fluid and almost poetic.

“Arousal,” he repeats. Absolutely that.

**A human sensation. Tied up in your memories with satisfaction and love and humiliation and fear.**

Eddie feels the disorienting sense of Venom brushing against his very consciousness, like when they were first bonded and he was learning every aspect of his new host. It’s a dangerous, out of control feeling, being known entirely.

**What does arousal feel like?**

It’s not as crazy a question as it sounds at first pass. Since Anne, Eddie hasn’t felt any romantic interest in another person, and since Venom, sexual desire’s been a forbidden subject too. Even self-directed, Eddie’s held himself back. Which probably explains why eating good chocolate was enough to get him going. Goddamn.

“Hunger,” he finally answers. No use being coy here. “Like you’re going to crawl out of your skin, and you don’t care what happens on the way. Like the way _you_ feel when we’re going to eat some brains, only more. It’s like something unstoppable is pulling you along and all you want is to chase it, give in, be satisfied, be complete.”

The warmth is returning. Eddie rests his hands on his thighs, waiting while Venom thinks this over. This time, he welcomes the rising desire in his spine and belly and fingertips and cock. His knees spread a little wider.

**Show me.**

A snarl reverberates through his skull, low and demanding. Venom rarely refers to himself as a separate entity from Eddie. But now it’s a threat, reminding him of the otherness of this alien inside him.

Eddie isn’t afraid. He’s suddenly, painfully hard. A light touch to the outside of his sweatpants has him biting his lip, focusing on the delicate pain to stay grounded.

Venom drops to his groin, clearly intent on feeling as well as watching. Eddie finally graduates to stroking himself through his pants, lip still bit as he watches himself rise and jerk as well. It’s not just warm but hot in the room now, and no sooner has that thought crossed his mind before two inky tendrils flow out from his back to push the sweatpants to his feet.

It’s less like being undressed by a lover and more like another layer of himself being unsheathed. Eddie thinks back to unwrapping the chocolate bar.

His nails dig into the tender flesh of his thighs, sharper than they really are. There’s the familiar desperate ache in his belly to match the supernatural warmth. Gently, he returns to stroking his cock, bare now, fitting hot and perfect within his grip.

“Enjoying the show?” he croaks out, because Venom’s gone unusually quiet again. Because the raw edge to his own voice makes him quake. Because the thought of having a spectator right now is unexpectedly hot. Because he wants Venom to enjoy this too.

**More.**

It’s delivered against another snarl, more ravenous and frenzied this time.

“Happy to oblige, buddy.”

Eddie slides his free hand up his belly and chest, bunching his t-shirt to his throat. His breath hitches at the brush of his thumb over his nipples. Without his consideration, his knees inch open wider.

Sitting slumped now to the edge of the couch, fondling himself, Eddie lets his eyes drift shut. Almost meditative again, he takes in his harsh breaths and the feel of skin against skin, soft and hot. His toes dig into the rug. His head lolls to one side.

There’s a firm, wet pressure against the vulnerable curve of his neck, and the fluid feeling of Venom rising up out of his body. A thin tendril wraps around his wrist to drag it away from his chest and another replaces the careful attention to his nipple, pulling it to a hard point. More tendrils snake out to remove his other hand from his cock, envelop it, hold his hips flush to the edge of the couch.

Eddie doesn’t give in, doesn’t move or resist or until his arms are held firmly behind his back and he can feel the liquid, otherworldly caress across every inch of his skin. His abs pull in from the obscene angle. Sweat drips down his thighs. Despite the heat, he shivers.

They’re so intimately connected in the moment, Eddie swears he can almost see through Venom’s eyes, see the flushed, panting mess he’s become. It’s too much to bear so he finally opens his eyes and there’s Venom’s massive head floating a breath away from his own. Those razor teeth glint in the dim light and Venom slicks the very tip of his tongue across Eddie’s throat.

**I understand. This is arousal.**

**My turn now.**

Eddie wants so badly to say something funny, drop some little quirk or pretend he still has the upper hand. But that’s bullshit. Venom’s hungry grin consumes him. He can’t move an inch and barely tries. The tongue on his jugular wraps all the way around his neck for a moment, cutting away his air supply until his toes and fingers tingle before releasing him with a gasp and gliding lovingly down his heaving chest.

The thick black tentacle squeezing at his cock with just the right amount of grip recedes, leaving him dripping and unsatisfied. Eddie huffs with discomfort, working his hips in tiny, useless circles while Venom considers it, hovering now crotch-level. Eddie can feel the electricity biting at them both, starving for more, and hears his voice crack on a whimpery, _“Please.”_

Venom answers by rolling his tongue completely up and down Eddie’s prick, enfolding him in slippery, tight heat. There is no untangling their pleasure, separating Eddie’s role as receiver from Venom’s elation as giver, just riotous, continuous feedback from one to the other, leaving Eddie moaning against his own shoulder. Venom knows exactly where to press, how hard and how fast, slurping and sucking with an enthusiasm unmatched by even the promise of human heads.

Eddie’s mind and body are alive with Venom’s alien greed. He doesn’t want this to stop, doesn’t want it to _ever_ end, can think of only prolonging the experience until he passes out or dies.

“Fuck,” he grinds out, light-headed and trembling. “ _Fuck,_ Venom, ‘s so fucking good.”

Venom slithers his tongue away with a disappointing, final _smack._ His whole torso, rippling shoulders and arms and _claws,_ materialize to grip the backs of Eddie’s knees and push him up against the couch.

Those huge milky eyes lock onto Eddie and suddenly he knows what it’s like to look up at them in the night, to be captured, to be their prey.

 **Mine,** Venom says aloud, still rumbling through Eddie’s skull with dark desire.

“Yeah,” Eddie pants. “Only us. Only this, _fuck.”_

Venom drops his head again and Eddie’s cock jerks in anticipation. But Venom goes lower, licking a wide, wet stripe across his asshole.

If Eddie truly believed he still had secrets to keep from his alien by now, that flies right out the window along with any remaining shreds of his dignity. He nearly fucking loses it right then and there, _whimpering_ at the feel of slick saliva dripping down his cheeks.

Venom dives right back in. He laves his tongue up and down Eddie’s hole relentlessly, opening him up and bouncing them both up into the couch with every swipe. Eddie squirms within his bonds, growing desperate for relief to his cock twitching against his stomach. Venom ignores it and keeps pressing until he’s fucking _inside_ Eddie, tonguing his inner walls and clamping at the sensitive flesh of his thighs until the skin almost breaks.

Eddie gasps on a string of complete nonsense – “harder, _harder,_ fuck, take it, make us” – as his hole is pounded deeper than should ever be pleasurable. He’s tingling all over, burning up from the inside out, and vaguely aware of a low growl sounding through the room. Venom’s mouth is a little occupied at the moment, so Eddie guesses it must be him, an animal, ungodly rumble that sets his teeth on edge. This is what he’s become now. This is what Venom’s made – and unmade – him, them, a single creature starving for its own desire.

Nothing can ever compare to this feeling. Venom fills him with a strength and girth no human could hope to match, threatening to break him as easily as a blow-up doll. In gorgeous, heart-stopping contrast, the tentacles roped across Eddie’s body stroke him softly, raise goosebumps on his arms and chest.

He glances down and sees the tongue inside him thrusting brutally, his cock slapping against his abs, the claws shoving him open wide, and it’s absolutely over. His hole pulses hot and juicy, milking down the length as deep as possible as he comes and comes and _comes,_ growl breaking into a scream that’s definitely going to alert the new neighbors that, yeah, something weird really is going on at their place.

Eddie pants so hard in the aftermath that everything goes black for a minute. His racing heart wakes him back up, to a huge load splattered up his chest and Venom slowly curling his tongue away and lowing his now-aching legs. With a brief, final warming sensation, Venom disappears back inside him, leaving Eddie boneless and naked but for the torn pieces of his shirt still around his neck.

Eddie lies flat on his back, still trying to catch his breath. The slight throb in his ass is already fading, and the claw marks dug into his skin, though Venom does nothing about the spunk cooling on his chest. He tugs off the rest of the shirt and wipes it away.

“You could warn a guy before you pull some mind-bending shit like that,” Eddie finally says, though he’s too wiped and satisfied to care much.

Venom’s just as out of it as he is, but smug. Very, very smug.

**You said no tongue in your _mouth._**

“That’s true. You got me.”

**Always.**

Eddie gives a breathy laugh and rolls to his side. Right on cue, a black tendril rolls out to flick off the TV and bathe the room in darkness.

He guesses he should feel some kind of way about what just occurred – and what would you even call that? Masturbation? Or sex? But mostly he just feels sleepy now. Getting drilled down by your alien companion is probably no weirder than biting off heads with him. Right?

**Sleep now, Eddie.**

Right, Eddie decides, pulling up a blanket and snuggling in. Venom floats just under his skin, in his chest, purring with whatever afterglow translates to his side of their bond.

Yeah. This is good.

“Good night, V.”


End file.
